them unstoppable. “I trained them up, along with some other ex-forces members. I made them who they are now.”
“Tanner. Think it’s best if you step outta church right now.” I looked at Ky. He wasn’t speaking for Styx. He was speaking for himself. Styx was just staring at me.
“Come on, Tann. Let’s go.”
Tank led me out to the hallway. His hand stayed on my shoulder until we got to my room and I slumped to the bed. My head dropped, and I stared at the wooden floor. There were years of marks on the grains, showing just how long this club had been around. How many brothers had passed through these doors? How many men with fucked-up pasts? Needing the outlaw life, too messed up to be normal.
“I don’t know how to do it,” I finally said. My voice sounded like a boom of thunder in the quiet room. I lifted my head to see Tank standing still. He ran his hand over his shaved head. I caught the shank scar. Remembered waiting for him outside of the prison when he got out. When he walked away from the Klan. I’d been so fucking angry at him. Turning on Landry in prison for some kid he’d roomed with who Landry planned to kill. I was so fucking mad that he was walking away from what we’d been building. Couldn’t understand how he’d lost faith in us—the motherfucking Ku Klux Klan.
His home. Our home.
“I don’t know how to put that life behind me once and for all . . . it always finds a way to catch me. No matter how fucking hard I try.”
Tank sighed, his shoulders dropping. I knew how to read my best friend by now. He was feeling sorry for me. I didn’t want his damn pity. I just needed to know how to move the fuck on. To be free. “It’s all I know. I was born, then crafted into the perfect White Prince. Beaten if I dared speak to someone outside of the white race. You know me, Tank. I was all in. Was made to not even entertain any other way of thinking.”
“I know.”
“I don’t believe the rhetoric now. I don’t.” Mi amor, forget what you’ve always been told and just feel . . . Adelita’s husky voice cut through my brain, and the dead feeling that had resided in my chest immediately warmed the fuck up. Just thinking about her dark eyes, her long dark hair . . . her voice, her hands on my chest when I needed her most . . . “I fucking don’t believe it.”
“You’re a Hangman now. Patched in.”
I nodded. “It’s so fucking hard.” I ran my hand over my stubbled chin. I squeezed my eyes shut. “And I’m at fucking war with my brother . . . and with the family the bitch I want more than anything works for. The bitch I fucking love . . . but haven’t seen in two years.” I sighed, feeling my damn throat clog. “Don’t even know if she still wants me.” I laughed to disguise the massive lump in my throat. “Why would she? She’s perfect, smart, funny. She’s everything. I’m the Klan heir. Or so she probably still thinks. I’m the fucking dirt on her feet. She’s better off without me.”
Tank came forward and kissed my fucking head. “Tann. I know you don’t think any of the Klan shit is true anymore—”
“The other brothers think I do,” I interrupted. “Maybe not our chapter. But you have to see how the others look at me.”
“Fuck ’em.” He sat beside me. “When I came here, it took me a while to get in with them. They didn’t trust me either. They’ll see in time.”
I turned to face Tank. “I don’t think I could kill him . . . if it came to it.”
“Beau?”
I nodded. “He’s the one leading the Klan now. He’s the one who’s coming at us.” I sucked in a breath. “Fuck, Tank. He’s the one who needs to be killed to really fuck up the Klan.”
Tank put his hand on my head in support, but didn’t say shit. What could he say? He knew it was true. My brother had to die. Tank got to his feet. “I need to get back to church.” He eyed me weirdly. “You gonna be okay? You want to stay with me and Beauty for a few days? Get away from this place?”